


Fatal mistake

by babydragon7



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Humor, M/M, This is Not the Russian way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:35:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24570901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babydragon7/pseuds/babydragon7
Summary: Ilya does not think they did. Vodka and hard-ons do not mix well.
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo
Comments: 7
Kudos: 99





	Fatal mistake

**Author's Note:**

> Quarantine makes me do it!
> 
> as per usual - not mine, do not own.
> 
> pre- or slash, whatever rocks your boat.

“Drinking was such a bad idea”, Ilya thinks as he wakes up in the morning.

Drinking with Napoleon even more so.

It all had started on a previous evening. Gaby had long retired to bed, but Napoleon lingered trying to cox Ilya to have just one drink, claiming he brought real Russian vodka for this.

It is not that Ilya did not drink at all – it was frowned upon in Russia, if you were a man and you did not drink, there must be a problem with you. Ilya could hold his drink pretty good and at times used neat tricks – like switching to water, eating a lot of greasy food with his drinks, having activated charcoal beforehand – to get less inebriated. However, usually he avoided alcohol for a different reason. “Болтун – находка для шпиона” – as they say in Russia, a talkative person is a gift for a spy, and Ilya happened to know a spy, who would milk the occasion for what it was worth if Ilya let his guard down.

Still…

“One drink”, Ilya said.

They put vodka – slightly chilled – in tumblers.

“Na zdorovie,” Napoleon toasted and Ilya just flipped out.

“Never ever say ‘na zdorovie’, Cowboy. It is a fatal mistake! Nobody says this in Russia, as people toast. You say ‘na zdorovie’ after somebody said ‘spasibo’. It fucking means ‘you’re welcome’”.

“Easy, Peril. No reason to twist my head off, how do you toast health then?”

“You say ‘za zdorovie’ or just ‘tvoye zdorovye’ – your health singular.”

After that Napoleon of course wanted to know more about Russian drinking culture, and they went with more toasts – starting with “за мир во всем мире” (world’s peace) going all the way to “за науку” (science), “за свободу” (freedom), escalating to “за любовь” (love).

All this somehow led to Ilya proposing they drink “на брудершафт’ (brudershaft or brotherhood), the tradition Napoleon was unfamiliar with. The trick was for the both parties to intertwine their arms, so each drank from the tumbler of the other.

“And after that we kiss”, Ilya demonstrated by brushing Napoleon’s lips chastely, and Solo reacted by licking his lips and giggling…

Anyway – it was yesterday. Which – and oh the way his head not hurts but fucking drums – does not explain why Ilya is lying in his bed naked with someone’s hand on his naked buttock. This is definitely not the Russian way.

The owner of said hand seems to wake up too and very carefully takes his hand of Ilya’s bare – he can’t stress the fact enough – gluteus maximus.

Napoleon clears his throat.

“Hmm, did we… Peril, do you think we…”

Ilya does not think they did. At least they did not do much. Vodka and hard-ons do not mix well. However, he can just bet Napoleon is in similar state of undress, because it would be illogical for Ilya to be the only one naked in bed.

He groans, which Napoleon needs to take as “go the fuck away, so I don’t have to look at you.”

Napoleon slips out of the bed, quietly goes away but returns in a couple of minutes. Ilya still does not open his eyes – to see Napoleon would be admitting he is there at all – but Solo is hovering on Ilya’s side of the bed and then presses a glass of water in Ilya’s hand. Ilya takes a glass and a pill – presumably aspirin – blindly and swallows.

“Спасибо”, he croaks.

“На здоровье,” Napoleon says, which of course prompts Ilya to open eyes in surprise and groan. He sees Solo, thankfully wearing a bathrobe, and looking as disheveled as possible with messed up hair and swollen face and eyes too bright. This sight in turn, to Ilya’s object horror, makes his penis twitch. Napoleon judging by his smirk notices.

“Fuck”, Ilya thinks. Then he very maturely closes eyes and flops back on the bed.

Later he will deal with it, now he needs to sleep the handover off.

Ilya feels Napoleon put a blanket on top of him. The mattress sags as another body joins Ilya’s on the bed. Before the darkness claims him, as per habit of so many men and occasionally women all over the world, Ilya makes a solemn vow, “I’ll never drink again”.


End file.
